


atlas

by laurelsalexis



Series: Kinktober 2018 [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Kinktober 2018, Minor Jon/Val, Post - Red Wedding, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 01:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: He discovers this is what happiness feels like.





	atlas

**Author's Note:**

> Day four for [kinktober](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/post/178436560511/kinktober-2018). 
> 
> #4 ; spanking

Robb thinks the Gods enjoy his misery. _Misery_ , such a strong word for what he feels. He sits in the hall between Sansa and Jeyne, looking out as the Northern Lords bicker over something he has very little interest in, he is certainly not pleased with anything. As their king he needs to have have far more interest than he does, but he simply _doesn’t._ What that means for the impending winter is probably why Sansa has such a concerned look on her face more often than not. She reminds him of their mother, one that is long gone, and one he still finds he aches so the answers fall into his lap. Even if he always did have a problem with listening.

He’ll listen this time, he swears, whenever he is in front of the heart tree, begging for mercy on his damned soul.

There’s no mercy to be given. Rarely has any mercy been extended towards him. His father lost his head, his mother was murdered at what they so affectionately call the Red Wedding, Seven hells, _he_ was murdered at that very wedding, brought back to life with magic he doesn’t understand.

What he does understand is the darkened feeling that rushes over him. The inability to smile as he once did while looking at Jeyne or Sansa. He sees Jon and thinks maybe he understands after what happened at the Wall. They don’t speak of it, however. They speak of nothing and everything all in one, doing nothing more than exchanging looks over late nights away from the prying eyes of those who care for them.

His death isn’t the only thing that brought him to look at the world in a harsher light, nor the death of his parents. It’s everything that has happened to the whole of Westeros since the beginning of time. Hope is not as readily available as it once was. Rather, he keeps it for those who matter most. Arya. Bran. Rickon. Those are the ones deserving of his hopes, that they will be found and the entire family can live as one in Winterfell once more.

He even hopes for Jeyne to fall with child. He doesn’t count the moons for it will only bring a certain tension that is not necessary. Not when he loves his wife as he does and knows that he will continue to do so even if she does not deliver him a child. It is the fault of her mother. He worries she drank too much moon tea and it harmed her in some way. The maester tells him to not worry. He worries anyway.

The meeting ends when Robb tells them he hasn’t decided what to do with the Dreadfort now that the Boltons are dead and when he decides he will let them all know. He has half a mind to burn it down. By law he supposes it belongs to Jeyne Poole, under the guise she was Arya, but the poor girl so traumatized most of the time. He supposes that is what is to expected. He never quite gets the full story but he gets enough to give her a guard so she at least feels safe. Makes it so Grey Wind isn’t too close to her at any given time and puts her room between his and Sansa’s.

Sometimes it seems overkill but he remembers sneaking kisses in the Godswood before she left for King’s Landing.

Seems he always had a weakness for girls named Jeyne.

They’re all so different now.

The lords filter out of the Great Hall before he even dares to move, glancing over at Jeyne. Sweet, beautiful Jeyne he has half a mind to take her on the table before him. He doesn’t and it’s mostly because his sister is in the room and he’s no damn Lannister. She fits in with the North more than he ever could have imagined. He doesn’t regret anything led them to that point, only wishing that things were smoother.

“Tonight.” Jeyne promises as she rises from her chair. “After our duties.”

“When did you become the sensible one?”

“I have always been such.”

Robb smiles, rolling his eyes as she walks off without even daring to give him a kiss, walking off whispering something with Sansa. He stands himself a moment later, the last one to leave the hall and find himself out in the cold, winter air. Winter is here and he feels it as the snow comes down.

He feels at home.

He finds himself off in the woods as Grey Wind roams free, seeing Ghost’s white fur in the distance. His eyes travel to Jon. “Why weren’t you at the meeting?”

Jon doesn’t look at him as he speaks. “Did I need to be _Your Grace_?”

They both smile. Sometimes it feel surreal exactly where he is in life. He used to think he would become lord. Nothing more, nothing less. His duty because of his status as the first trueborn son. He was to marry a nice northern girl and have some children with her in order for the Stark lineage to continue. Jeyne is no Northern girl and he is a _king_.

Nothing has worked out how he expected.

“Do you want the Dreadfort?” Robb questions casually, unsure of how deep Jon’s pride goes.

Jon looks at him. “They won’t like it.”

“You’re a Stark. They’ll learn to like it.” Jon remains quiet. “You, _Val_.”

“- Did Jeyne put you up to this?”

“No.” There’s a lie and he does his best to make it seem the truth.

Jon stares him, eyes unwavering, knowing the truth.

“ _Yes_.” He admits the truth with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Val and I are fine.” He dismisses with ease. It’s the same answer he’s given since they both showed up at Winterfell. “We are nothing.”

Robb does not believe it for a second, of course. He knows Jon and knows the way his mind works. Probably offers himself a thousand excuses in order to keep himself from her. He doesn’t understand why and perhaps that is the great difference between the two of them.

He sought comfort in Jeyne upon hearing about Theon’s actions. He thinks Jon would never be so... _weak_ . Not a way he oftens look at it. He loves Jeyne. Gods, he really does. But he didn’t start out that way. It was difficult in the beginning, before he died, when they had to figure out how to do things in the mess he made. _His mess_. She was just a pretty girl who didn’t say no to him. Jon had a better stoicism to him. He didn’t need to be so upset he fell into bed with a girl whose family was too happy to bed the Lannisters.

He doesn’t feel pity for himself, just wishes the path could have been different.

For all of their differences Robb knows there is no one he can trust more than Jon. Should have listened to him a time or two. Theon is off the table of things he thinks about and discusses. It is better this way.

He’s been quiet for a too long and knows they are only mere moments away from talking about topics neither want to. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“I want to fuck my wife, Jon.” He doesn’t help the smile, all too eager to talk about something lighter, “but my wife has this romantic notion in her head that her good brother she actually likes needs to be happy with the woman he loves. Val is beautiful and mouthy, even to me,” Robb is only amused, he really doesn’t mind it at all, “she earns a rare smile out of you and she’s here and she says you stole her. I don’t really understand. She won’t kneel to me, but maybe she’ll knee to you.”

“Shut up, Stark.” Jon tries his best not to smile but it’s there. “Don’t you have other things to worry about?”

Robb places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not a man of the Night’s Watch anymore.”

“Come on,” Jon says, ignoring Robb’s words, “we’re late for dinner.”

Robb follows Jon to the Great Hall for dinner. It’s filled with people. Some he likes and some he doesn’t. He takes his seat next to Jeyne, a kiss on her cheek given, grabbing a piece of food off of her plate.

“What did you tell Jon?” Jeyne asks as she turns to him.

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.” Jeyne replies as she eyes her husband very carefully.

“I told him I wanted to fuck my wife so he should figure it out with the girl he loves.” The nonchalance on the outside doesn’t quite fit what he feels on the inside. Not when he is looking at her and hoping she isn’t about to chastise him.

“He does love her.”

“And the other part?” The smirk is all knowing.

“Eat your dinner, _sire_.”

The plate of food is placed before him and he does his best to eat it. There is idle chatter around him. Mostly he just sits there. Jon is sitting with Val and he thinks perhaps he actually got through to him. He sees them throughout Winterfell. They spend time with Ghost, they talk, they snark, they laugh. She makes no qualms about criticizing them and he finds it amusing, in truth.

It’s not as if he feels some true attachment to his title. He’s just glad to be home.

Jeyne retires first. Something about being tired. He sits through the dinner until most people are drifting off into the night. Jon and Val leave together and he hopes by the Gods they figure it out. Half tempted to lock them in a room together if they didn’t find themselves at least talking.

He retires not long after that, drinking the rest of his wine, before walking down the corridor to the chambers he and Jeyne share. The room is that of his parents, the one that is the warmest, giving some southron comfort to her.

When he turns from locking the door behind him, he sees his wife standing there, wearing absolutely nothing, looking as beautiful as the night he slept with her for the first time. That’s a night he doesn’t recall often for he’ll think about everything that led him needing comfort. He doesn’t need comfort now as he follows the lines of her body. She’s breathtaking. So much so he doesn’t move from his position. her lips are where his attention hits first, her tits, her stomach, to wanting to spread her legs so he can see her perfect cunt that has him half hard in his breeches already.

Beautiful.

“Your Grace.” Jeyne says with a soft little smile that borders on the edge of shy, even after all their time. “I would like to offer myself to you. To do as you please.”

The surprise on his face is clear as day as he takes a step forward, brushing her hair off her neck so it falls down her back. “And why exactly would that be?”

“My king has had a very long day.” Her hands reach to undo the ties of his tunic. “Stressed and displeased. It is a queen’s duty to make her husband happy.”

“Is that all this is... _duty_?”

“Yes.”

Robb smirks. “So, if I touched you you wouldn’t be pleased at all.”

“Of course not, Your Grace.”

“Hmm.” His hand finds it’s way between her legs, shifting her thighs apart, able to feel the arousal plaguing her. “I think you enjoy this.”

“Only a whore gets enjoyment from such depraved acts.”

“And you’re not a whore?”

“No, Your Grace.” Jeyne’s voice is soft as she plays the role of the ever so dutiful lady.

“I never much had a fondness for whores.” He states, tugging her with him until he’s sitting down against the furs, her standing in front of him. “Not when I have my queen here to satisfy me.”

“I am here for your pleasure.”

“ _My pleasure_.” He repeats the word as his hand slides around to the flesh of her ass. “Gods, I love you.”

Jeyne looks down at him with a hint of a smile. She doesn’t break from her character even as he does.

“Turn around.” He commands with the kingly tone. She complies as he focuses on her ass, kissing down the center of her back, biting at her flesh. “I’ve wanted you all day.” For the past few days, really. When he wasn’t busy and exhausted she was punishing him. “To deprive your king.”

“Please, forgive me Your Grace.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” His lips find the curve of her, biting at her flesh, enjoying the little red marks he leaves behind. “After you do this _duty_ you speak of.”

Duty as if he doesn’t take note of the way she shivers when his lips ghost against her skin. There’s a hint of mischievous in his eyes. “Tell me, Jeyne, what is part of this duty?”

She briefly glances at him, swallowing. “Whatever is you want.”

“Whatever your king wants.” He muses aloud as he grips her hair, fisting it, yanking her back to him, his mouth by her ear. “Dangerous thing to offer.”

“I trust him.”

“Hands on the desk.” He orders as he stands up, giving a gentle nudge towards the part of their room where a desk sits against the wall.

Jeyne obliges, hands on the desk, holding onto the wood, leaning over, letting her long dark hair fall around her as it falls out of Robb’s hand.

“How many days did you deny me?”

“Three, Your Grace.”

 _Hmm._ “I think you should be punished.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

His hand gripped at her ass, squeezing it, enjoying the tanned flesh in his hand, the way it feels. “I’m going to _spank_ you.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” She nods as she repeats the sentence, giving no hint of how she feels of it, one way or another.

“How many do you think you deserve?” He whispers, eyeing her body, enjoying the sight of her there for him. There is no part of her that he does not enjoy.

“However many you think I do, Your Grace.”

Robb gave a light smack to her skin, a test one, to see how she reacts. “Count.”

“One.” She whispers, biting down on her lip, doing her best to stay still and not move, not even make a sound.

“One, _Your Grace_.” A slight correction as he waits for her to fix her mistake.

“One, _Your Grace_.”

“Good girl.” He murmurs, brushing his lips against her shoulder blade, before placing a soft kiss.

From there he wastes no time in finding himself more a _king_ , less Robb. They have these moments on occasion, games played, ones that only make his cock ache behind his breeches in ways he can’t imagine. Always hard as stone with his wife looking at him fondly.

His hand smacks her, a little harder, certainly not as hard as he can. She jolts forward at the sting, leaning her head back a little, not letting go of the desk. Robb wants to see her face but is content with watching the way she reacts to his every touch.

“Two,” she says, “Your Grace.”

He waits a few passing moments before his hand hits smacks against her flesh again, the sound ringing through their room. It’s silent except for them and the fire in the background.

“Three, Your Grace.”

By the time his hand is on the seventh she is letting out a moan, gripping on the desk with such intensity that her knuckles are turning white, rubbing her legs together.

In truth, he would never do this unless he knew his queen enjoyed it so. She does. The last time she found herself so wet it felt as if he was constantly slipping out of her pretty little cunt.

He continues, watching as her skin turns bright red, wondering if next time he should use something more than just his hand.

A conversation for later.

“Ten, Your Grace.” She manages to get out, chest heavy, leaning forward more, putting her ass more on display for him.

“Turn around.” He tells her and takes a step back, ignoring his own arousal.

Jeyne does as she is told. Her skin if flushed as she looks up at him and her eyes are widen, biting at her lips.

Robb wastes no time as he slips his hand between her legs, finding how wet she is. It does nothing to help the ache in his throbbing cock that is straining against him, leaking, making it obvious how aroused he is through the white material of his small clothes he still has on. “You enjoy you punishment.”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace.” She tries not to smile, but she does anyway.

Robb ignores it, for the time being, running his fingers along her wet folds that only manage to cover his fingers. “Pity you only see this as duty.”

Jeyne doesn’t say anything but she does spread her legs apart, clasping her hands in front of her, blinking at her husband.

He slips his fingers inside of her, feeling the warmth she offers, coating him further. He applies a pressure, working her over, finding that sweet spot inside of her as he keeps his eyes on her face, enjoying her reaction to everything he’s doing to her. He wants to watch her fall apart right there before him, just for him.

Her mouth falls open as she pushes herself down onto his fingers, fucking herself, hands moving to grasp at her tits.

She’s a sight as she takes what she wants from him. It’s not everything and it certainly will not make her feel as good as his cock will. Doesn’t stop her. Doesn’t stop the ache deep in him from watching her, biting down on his lip, nearly taking himself in hand. He does love the way she looks when she’s covered in his seed.

There’s something deep inside of him that always makes him to mark her.

She is his.

“Still duty?”

“Yes.” A mere whisper as her weight leans against the desk for support, letting him do what he wants with her, reacting to each of his touches, moaning all too loudly. “Your Grace.”

“ _Jeyne_.” There’s no mercy on her as he allows for her to hit her orgasm, watching her with fondness, lust, and love all wrapped into one.

His name falls off of her lips as she tugs at her nipples, a just right rotation of her hips to aid in drawing out her pleasure for as long as possible. Jeyne catches her breath before she’s leaning into him, catching his mouth on hers, kissing him. “I love you.”

“I know.” He whispers against her lips.

The entire mood shifts in the room as he pulls her with him to the bed. She lies down as he moves on top of her, finding her lips, kissing her with passion, hands running down her sides. All of his actions are a lot softer than before, but he really just wishes to enjoy the moments with his wife. They don’t need all of the stuff they find themselves doing. Sometimes they want it.

He doesn’t need it now.

“Robb, I need you.” Jeyne pleads as she offers herself more to him and lets her nails dig into skin, running down his back, certain to leave marks.

That’s all it takes for him to guide himself inside of her. He’s overwhelmed with the sensation of her, gasping into her ear, placing a kiss at her pulse point. She’s tight, warm, wet, and all too perfect as he thrusts within her, Jeyne’s legs moving around him, drawing him closer.

Robb is as close as he can get, deep inside of her, chests pushed against each other, her scent filling him. He grabs her hands and interlocks their fingers. pinning them above her head, using his weight to further drive into her.

Over and over.

He moans against her skin as he aims to kiss every exposed inch of her. There she is, so beautiful, so perfect, so raw for him. The only sounds that come from her are ones of pleasure. They only further

It’s just them. He wants and needs nothing more. Just her. Just like that.

He rests his forehead against hers as he does his best to keep some control. He’s not ready to spill inside of her and lose the moment.

Instead he opens his eyes so he can look at her. For so long he’s done his best to seek out the connection so he can make it seem as if he is still the same man she married. _Boy_. In truth, she married a boy and now she is wed to a man who has seen things that no one should have to.

The connection causes her to tighten around him all too quickly, finding her orgasm again, squeezing onto his hands as a sharp cry rings out in the space of their shared chambers. He spills his seed inside of her then, with the way she bites on his ear, tugging him over the edge right with her.

Her lips are the object of his attention as he lets go of her, slipping himself free, falling to the side of her. He’s no less close to her, not when he refuses to pull away from her any more than he has to, instead he simply allows himself to kiss her, letting his lips linger, running his fingers through her hair.

Neither of them say anything. Not when words aren’t needed. Rather they lie in one another’s arms, stolen kisses, soft looks, tender moments until they find themselves nodding off within the comfort of the warm furs that contrast so heavily to the fierce cold beyond the walls of the castle.

When Robb wakes he take notice that he is alone. It is the first time in all too long he has been with proper sleep, and cannot blame his wife for allowing for it to be. He doesn’t linger and rather dresses himself before finding himself in the snow covered grounds.

“Your Grace.” Val’s tone isn’t serious as she greets him, far from it, just on the edge of mocking, not _quite_ there.

“My Lady.” He returns, a smile, just barely there on the edge of his lips. “Have you happened to see my brother?”

“He’s still sleeping. _Wore out._ ”

“Aye.” He appreciates Val for her all too blunt nature that rivals most of the men of the North. He’s glad they managed to...whatever they are doing. Doesn’t know and doesn’t ask. Everyone is happy.

“And Jeyne?”

Robb only smiles. “Planning to steal her?”

“Mayhaps.” A shrug of her shoulders comes as she smirks. “She is prettier than both of you.”

“Aye, I can’t disagree.”

“I’m still not bending the knee.”

“No, that honor is Jon’s.” He can barely get the words out without smiling, all too amused with himself.

Val laughs, never offended by such things. Of course, that does not stop her from picking a snowball from the wet snow beneath their boots to throw it at him.

It hits him square in the jaw, a mess of cold ice, causing him to scrunch up his nose and wipe it off his bear.

“What are you talking about?” Jeyne asks as she looks suspiciously between the both of them.

“Nothing.” The singular word spoken in unison, as if they are children caught by their mother for acting improper.

“Mm.” Jeyne clearly does not believe it for a second, only walking over to Val. “Come,” she requests, “join me in breaking our fast. Leaves the boys to fend for themselves.”

“Hey.” Robb does his best to seem offended.

“It seems your wife is the one to steal me.” Val says with something of a prideful smirk.

Jeyne smiles over at him and gives him a wink, walking off with Val.

He discovers this is what happiness feels like.  

Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Everything is as it should be.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/)


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